


like liquid gold (how your love runs through me)

by hojichadust



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:06:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hojichadust/pseuds/hojichadust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>title:</b> like liquid gold<br/><b>pairing:</b> kaisoo<br/><b>rating:</b> NC-17<br/><b>warning:</b> smut, breathplay<br/><b>a/n:</b> i can't believe i wrote this i cannot beleve i fkcing worte thiis and it's all for tia happy birthday lovely daffodil ❤</p>
            </blockquote>





	like liquid gold (how your love runs through me)

Looking at the situation from a distance, it’s not what Jongin expected. 

He is, after all, taller, in good shape from dancing, and, most importantly, more prone to be called “hot” or “sexy” rather than “cute,” with his cat-like eyes and prominent jawline. He’s used to the sensation of foreign eyes on him from a distance and has learned how to just continue about his daily life, with or without them. Once, Jongin had felt very empowered indeed.

But there’s something about Do Kyungsoo that has him completely at his mercy. An upperclassman of the college by two years, he works at one of the campus’s many coffee shops (because where else could you possibly make a killing in coffee sales more than a college campus?) and majors in classics (wherein it was a universal truth that anyone interested in classic civilizations were the best down-to-earth type). He has inky black hair that he is prone to constantly push off his forehead and a mouth that drives Jongin absolutely nuts.

Standing next to him, Jongin feels tall, but he doesn’t feel _big_. His presence is easily overpowered by Kyungsoo’s, who is the embodiment of an emotional rock and the epitome of confidence without being cocky about it. The way he held himself was impeccable: he would look you straight in the eye and maintain eye contact when he spoke, stood with his shoulders back and his spine tall, and his sentences were never littered with fillers like “um” or “uh” the way Jongin’s so often are. It’s incredible, the effect it has, and most other people find themselves bending to it in similar fashion. 

Kyungsoo is also very thoughtful and respectful, something Jongin admired at first and then quickly fell in love with the longer he was subject to it. He waited until after their second date to lean in for a kiss, and waited until Jongin invited him inside before they did anything more than that. On every occasion he walked Jongin to and from his apartment, something that still makes Jongin deliriously happy to this day.

The first few times they had sex was normal. Well, not to say sub-par—they were great, Kyungsoo’s just as attentive and considerate in bed as he is out of it. He’s amazing at making Jongin feel like he’s the only thing that matters. And Jongin tries so hard to return the sentiment, so hard to make Kyungsoo feel equally as important, because he is.

Then, one day, when Jongin was spread out on the bed and Kyungsoo was hovering over him as he thrust into him rapidly, he felt it. Kyungsoo’s hand snaked up his stomach from its previous spot on his hip, over his chest, until his palm was settled on top of Jongin’s collarbones, the junction of his thumb and index finger wrapped around Jongin’s throat. He didn’t press, didn’t squeeze, didn’t put any pressure on Jongin’s windpipe whatsoever. But his hand just stayed there, like that. As if getting ready.

The effect it had was instantaneous. A hot flash of heat erupted through Jongin’s body at the touch, at the realization of where his hand was. He cried out loudly, louder than he ever had so far, his body bucking wildly as he came so hard he almost loses focus, spurting white-hot over his own chest. His orgasm lasted an earth-shattering twelve seconds. 

When he finally came down, he realized that Kyungsoo had stopped moving and was staring down at him, eyes wide and lips parted, and pupils so dark with lust that Jongin felt himself turning red from the tip of his head to his toes. He himself was taken aback by what he’d just done, and in a panic he forgot they were still mid-sex and promptly tried to pull a pillow over his face. Remembering that Kyungsoo was still hard, of course, only led to further mortification, especially when Kyungsoo told him it was okay and just pulled out to finish himself off. 

Things were a little awkward, after that, but Jongin never, not for one second, forgot about the sensation of Kyungsoo’s hand ghosting over his throat. Not once. It was like rediscovering his sexuality all over again. There was no backing out of this, now, whatever this weird desire was.

But there was still someone else he needed to get on board helping him indulge in it.

 

“Anyone can make spaghetti,” Kyungsoo says, very obviously trying to hide his smirk.

“Yeah, well, not me,” Jongin mumbles, practically draped over Kyungsoo’s back with his chin resting on the elder’s shoulder. “How was I supposed to know you had to keep stirring the noodles?”

“At least you know now. Can you keep stirring them for me?”

“Mm.” Jongin picks up the plastic tongs and swirls the pasta around in the pot. This is a good day, he thinks, to bring up what he needed to talk about with Kyungsoo. Midterms just finished and Kyungsoo was saved from the late night shift today, so they’re as free as they’re going to get. Jongin has him to himself for the whole night. 

He looks over at his boyfriend. _His_ boyfriend, he thinks to himself with a little sigh. Kyungsoo had taken a shower when he’d gotten in, so his hair is still a little damp, the dark wet strands bringing on a whole fresh feeling of adoration from the younger. He’s wearing an old dark green t-shirt and black sweatpants, his feet bare with little pink toes curling absent-mindedly over the linoleum tile. If Jongin leaned in now, before his hair dried, he could bury his nose into Kyungsoo’s nape and get a faint whiff of the mint body soap Kyungsoo had bought to keep in Jongin’s dorm. 

He waits until it seems okay to leave the spaghetti to cook on its own, then re-attaches himself to Kyungsoo’s back, clinging to him with arms wrapped tight around his waist. Kyungsoo is just dumping the jar of tomato sauce into the pan over the fried onions and garlic and peppers and stirring everything together, and Jongin watches him, nuzzling his way along the shell of Kyungsoo’s ear as he works. Kyungsoo reaches over the stove, then, and turns the heat down on the sauce before turning in Jongin’s embrace, facing him with a fond smile and hands linking around Jongin’s neck.

“You’re supposed to be watching the food,” Kyungsoo says, though he doesn’t actually sound like he’s berating him.

“I am,” Jongin says, bumping their noses now.

Kyungsoo smiles faintly before they’re sealing their mouths together. The kiss is warm and soft and blissful, and Jongin can’t help the way his hands curl into the back of Kyungsoo’s shirt with nervousness. Now, he thinks. You have to tell him now.

In the middle of trying to convince himself to speak, Kyungsoo’s tongue slips into his mouth, licking along his own, and for a moment Jongin loses his train of thought and opens his mouth with a low, appreciative hum. Kyungsoo licks into his mouth for a little longer before gently tugging on his lower lip, not too far, just a bit to tease. He lets it pop back into place and places a kiss on Jongin’s chin before working on his jaw, and Jongin finally finds the air to speak, which he has to do, before he loses his mind completely. 

“Hyung,” Jongin murmurs, “can I ask you for something?”

“Of course,” Kyungsoo replies, lips pressing gentle kisses along the column of Jongin’s throat. 

Jongin closes his eyes and swallows hard, simultaneously trying to gather his courage and steady himself against the arousal growing in his groin with every touch of Kyungsoo’s mouth to his skin. He clenches Kyungsoo’s shirt in his fists even tighter. “That...thing that you did, last time...”

“Mm...”

“I...I want you to do it again, but...harder.”

It takes a few seconds for the meaning to register. Kyungsoo plants two more kisses into his neck before it finally sinks in, and he stops, all but frozen to his spot, like he’s not even breathing. Then he removes himself from Jongin’s neck, and on his face is an expression of shock and disbelief. 

“What?” Kyungsoo asks bluntly, wide eyes staring.

Jongin chews on his lower lip. “Like this,” he says quietly, lifting his hand to his neck to demonstrate. “When you put your hand here, last time. Just...” He squeezes his fingers, a little.

Kyungsoo leans back, and Jongin’s sure that if he didn’t have him pinned to the stove he’d probably step out of his arms completely. “Jongin, I can’t do that,” he says, looking horrified. “I could hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Jongin says quickly, grabbing his hand. Right now he can’t show any self-doubt or hesitation, even if his insides are bubbling with nervousness. He knows what he wants. He didn’t spend the last week picturing Kyungsoo choking him and coming in his hand out of coincidence. 

“We can work something out. Please,” Jongin begs.

But Kyungsoo looks uncomfortable, and very much like he wants to squirm away now. “I—I don’t know, Jongin. I don’t know if I could do it.”

The disappointment stings a lot worse than Jongin anticipated. He can’t help the way his expression falls with his sinking heart, and he obediently frees Kyungsoo from his hold and steps away to give him space. “Sorry. Just—don’t worry then, forget I asked.”

Kyungsoo looks at him, at his hanging head and kicked puppy expression, his own lower lip now caught in his teeth with obvious confliction. His fingernails tap against the stove behind him for a few moments. “Would it be okay if I give it some thought first and get back to you?”

Jongin tries not to look like Kyungsoo has just resurrected all of his hopes and dreams in the span of a single sentence. Which it shouldn’t, he tries to tell himself firmly, because there’s a good chance he won’t be down and _you have to be cool about it._

“Yeah, okay,” Jongin says finally. 

Kyungsoo offers him a smile, then, and although it’s a little tight Jongin can see it’s a genuine one. Hewatches as Kyungsoo turns around to focus on their dinner again, and tries his best to tame the little kindle of wishfulness sparking in the chambers of his ribcage. 

 

“You asked him to choke you?” Baekhyun looks just as horrified as Kyungsoo did, if not more. “Dude. You’re fucked up.”

“I didn’t tell you so you could make fun of me,” Jongin hisses, ears turning red. His best friend of eleven years is about the only other person he can even breathe a word of this too, but apparently he’d overestimated how much he could handle.

“Aw, dude, that’s like. _Why_. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“I don’t know!” Jongin’s face is flaming. “I don’t know yet, okay?”

“Wait, what do you mean you don’t know? Are you saying you’ve never tried it? And you just asked him to do it for you?”

“Okay, you know what,” Jongin says, scraping his chair back and standing up, “you can finish your—your weird ass cobb salad by yourself—”

“Dude, chill,” Baekhyun says, reaching out quickly and grabbing a fistful of Jongin’s shirt to stop him. “So when did you realize you had a thing for being choked?”

Jongin plops back into his seat and swats his hand away. “Like, a couple weeks ago. By accident.”

“D’you tie your neck tie too tight or something?”

“No,” Jongin deadpans. 

“Well, then I don’t really want to hear how you did.” Baekhyun stabs his salad numerous times, because he does this thing where he has to have a piece of everything in the salad on his fork before he puts it in his mouth. Or any dish, for that matter. “I don’t know. Kyungsoo’s seriously the nice-guy type. I don’t think he’d be into that crazy kinky shit.”

Jongin deflates. “You think so?”

“Well. From first impressions. But I guess he could also be that really nice guy who secretly likes every kinky thing under the sun. You know Chanyeol had a girlfriend like that once? Man, was she ever fucking whack—”

“I can live without those tales,” Jongin says, lifting one hand to stop him. “So, I mean...how...what do I say?”

“Well, for now, nothing. If it takes too long just tell him to forget about it so it’s not just hanging in the air. I mean, you could also live without having to be choked every time you have sex, right?” Baekhyun stares at him. “Right?”

“ _Yes_ , Baekhyun.” 

“Whew, good. Anyways, I’ve heard like nothing negative about this guy otherwise, so unless you’re hiding his bad points I’d say it’s about time he stopped being perfect.”

“...You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Jongin. Look at my face, and then look at my cobb salad, and tell me if you think I have anything to be jealous of.”

“Well, his personality for starters—”

Baekhyun immediately stabs Jongin’s palm with his plastic fork.

 

It takes a few days to pass, but then it happens.

Jongin is watching TV absent-mindedly when Kyungsoo walks in. He doesn’t have classes today, so he hadn’t done much with his day so far besides lounge on the couch and eat cereal. Kyungsoo doesn’t have class till later tonight, but he did have opening shift this morning, so it’s no surprise to see him walk into the dorm still in his all-black work attire of cotton t-shirt and jeans, too tired to change into anything else, his green uniform apron stuffed into the ratty backpack that he drops on the foyer floor.

“Busy this morning?” Jongin asks, watching Kyungsoo trudge into the living room with eyes on the TV to see what’s on. 

“Yeah, right before 8 and 9, you know, the usual.” Kyungsoo moves to the couch, then, and plops down right beside Jongin when he leans in and promptly kisses him on the mouth.

Jongin blinks, unprepared for the sudden assault of affection, but it’s not unwanted and he melts into it easily. Kyungsoo tastes like coffee—he always does, after work, and Jongin never really minded anyway—and also of whatever he probably snacked on during his shift, something that’s sweet and spicy at the same time. “You taste good,” he murmurs against Kyungsoo’s lips.

“Ginger molasses cookie. I brought one home for you,” Kyungsoo says, then makes work of kissing Jongin hard enough that the latter can’t interrupt them again. Not that Jongin minds. Especially when Kyungsoo presses in closer and closer and Jongin finds himself sinking into the couch, Kyungsoo resting his full body weight over Jongin’s. Usually this day of the week Jongin was hard-pressed to keep Kyungsoo awake for ten minutes; the elder would usually throw himself onto the bed for a nap to make up for lost sleep that morning. 

Kyungsoo reaches to cradle Jongin’s head in his hand as they kissed, something he knew would get Jongin riled up, and Jongin lets out a little whimper with body writhing under Kyungsoo’s. The apartment quickly escalates in temperature, the heat leaving Jongin panting and grasping for more. 

“I want you so bad,” Kyungsoo growls, his deep voice fanning over Jongin’s lips. “I want you, babe.”

A shiver runs through Jongin’s body at the words, breath stuttering. Kyungsoo was a bit of a dirty talker in bed, something else Jongin quickly found he got off on. The elder would say things to Jongin that he kept replaying inside of his head for days to follow, eyes glossing over in lectures as he wavered on the edge of sporting an erection in public. 

“Clothes,” Jongin gasps, with Kyungsoo’s shirt already halfway up his torso from his impatient hands. Kyungsoo lets Jongin undress him, first, and then he sets to work on Jongin, a much easier task with the only thing in his way being a loose t-shirt and his boxers. Kyungsoo’s cock brushes against Jongin’s opening as he settles between his legs, and Jongin lets out another gasp, arms tightening around Kyungsoo’s shoulders.

Their mouths meet again in another kiss, carnal and greedy, hips rutting slightly against each other in their need for friction. It’s been a little longer than usual since they last had time for this and Jongin is strung out and oversensitive from the time apart. His skin is on fire, his blood thrumming in his veins, mind racing. He needs to get fucked, now.

“Soo—”

“Turn over for me,” Kyungsoo murmurs, in deep husky undertones that only turn Jongin on even more.

He does as he’s asked, untangles himself from Kyungsoo and flips over so that he’s face-down on the couch, cheek pressed to the cushions, hard cock now trapped beneath him and twitching with anticipation. Kyungsoo makes quick work of descending down on him, lips pressing to the spot between Jongin’s shoulder blades as he kisses down his spine. Small, strong hands grope Jongin’s ass cheeks and squeeze them greedily as Kyungsoo sucks marks into the soft flesh of his lower back, and Jongin whines, hips grinding desperately into the couch, unable to handle the stimulations without any attention going to his cock.

Kyungsoo pulls his mouth off and gives his left ass cheek a light smack. “Stay still,” he chides. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Faster, please,” Jongin begs, nails uselessly trying to dig into the couch cushions. The impulse to keep grinding down is so hard to fight that he thinks he’s going to explode with it. 

He doesn’t expect Kyungsoo to actually move as fast as he did. One second he’s barely touching Kyungsoo at all, save for where Kyungsoo is straddling the backs of his thighs, and in the next he feels his right ass cheek pulled aside while a slick finger touches his rim and slowly pushes inside. Jongin moans so loud he wonders briefly if he’d left the windows open, cheeks flooding red in mortification at the thought of someone hearing him, but then Kyungsoo’s finger is moving inside of him and the windows are completely forgotten, mouth going slack and swollen lips dragging against the leather cushion as his hips jerk against the intrusion. He lets his left leg slide off the side of the couch and hang like that in his attempt to spread his legs wider, shin brushing against the carpeted floor, and he hears Kyungsoo’s faint murmur of “That’s it,” before he pushes in all the way to the knuckle.

“Oh, fuck, Kyungsoo,” Jongin cries, unable to stop himself from grinding into the couch and pushing back on Kyungsoo’s finger simultaneously. 

“Jesus,” he hears Kyungsoo hiss, and he realizes how he must look, spread out and moving so desperately against the couch beneath him, eyes squeezed shut and back shining with sweat. He’s dead on, because Kyungsoo says, “You look so good, so fucking perfect,” and it makes Jongin so weak that his knees would’ve buckled if he’d been standing. 

A second finger promptly joins the first, pumping in and out, and Jongin can’t take it anymore. He tries to raise himself up onto his elbows, tries to snake a hand underneath him so he can stroke his cock, and suddenly there’s a hand fisting in his hair and jerking his head around so that he’s looking over his shoulder. Jongin gasps, taken aback by the roughness of it, and he finds Kyungsoo staring at him, pupils blown and honed in on Jongin’s face, fingers still moving in and out of Jongin’s ass.

“Look at me,” Kyungsoo says, in a low voice. “I want to see you. Go ahead, touch yourself.”

Jongin flushes. Suddenly he feels like he’s putting on a lewd display, having to look Kyungsoo in the eye as he jerks off, but he can’t help obeying, can’t help wrapping a hand around his cock and tugging fast as Kyungsoo fucks him three fingers deep, and he blushes even harder when Kyungsoo watches him hungrily, seeing how frantic his movements were, how his eyes were silently pleading for more. 

“A-Ah, don’t,” Jongin whines, tears threatening when Kyungsoo starts teasing his prostate with the barest brushes of his fingers. “D-Don’t, hyung, I’m gonna come!”

Kyungsoo swallows, then extracts his fingers, pulling a breathless groan out of Jongin at the abrupt emptiness. “I’ve got something for you,” Kyungsoo says, sounding equally breathless, somehow. “Lie back down. Move your hand.”

Jongin obeys, removing his hand from his cock and lying flat onto the cushions again, but he’s so close to losing what little self-control he possessed and he’s not sure how much longer his patience can hold out. “Hurry, hyung, please,” he whimpers. 

“Shhh. Just one second, okay?”

There’s rustling and fumbling of some sort behind him, and Jongin’s tempted to look but he gets the feeling he’s supposed to wait, and doesn’t want to ruin whatever Kyungsoo’s got planned for him. He lies there, panting and staring mindlessly at the TV that’s now showing the weather forecast, when suddenly, something’s being held in front of his face.

“Do you know what this is?”

Jongin knows exactly what it is, and the understanding of why Kyungsoo is presenting it to him sends him into such a shock of arousal that he thinks his head is going to pop off his shoulders. It takes him a full five seconds to gather himself, his breath and heart rate quickening with excitement to the point of nearly sending him into hyperventilation. 

“It’s your apron sash,” Jongin barely breathes, his whole body trembling now. 

Kyungsoo leans down and fits himself over the curve of Jongin’s back, lips brushing over Jongin’s ear. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Kyungsoo says, and he sounds, for the first time, unsure. “Promise me you’ll tap out if I hurt you.”

Jongin nods, moved beyond words. His heart starts pounding like crazy when Kyungsoo carefully loops the sash around his neck and ties a loose knot at the back. He can barely contain himself, the spot on the couch beneath his dick now completely slick with pre-come, his balls achingly hard and desperate for release. He feels Kyungsoo readjusting him so that the leg hanging off the cushions is back on the sofa again, and then hears the snap of the lube bottle as Kyungsoo slicks himself up, and all his mind registers is the incoherent jumble of _please please please hurry please_ running through his brain. 

When Kyungsoo finally sinks in they both cry out, Jongin overwhelmed by the stretch and the feeling of Kyungsoo’s cock filling him up so completely. Kyungsoo doesn’t wait for him to adjust; he braces his hands on either side of Jongin’s head and starts sliding his cock in and out, in long, broad strokes against Jongin’s ass that has Jongin moaning with every push in.

“Please,” Jongin blathers, words slurred, “please, hyung, I can’t take it—”

Kyungsoo doesn’t respond, but Jongin knows he heard; the hands by his head curl into fists and he starts slamming his hips down harder, fucking Jongin so good and fast into the cushions that Jongin is a moaning mess, mouth hanging open and drool collecting under his cheek as he feels Kyungsoo’s hips slapping against his ass loud enough to make noise. His voice keens out one long, hiccupy “Ah—ah—ah” that breaks off with every slam in, and when Kyungsoo curves his back and fucks right into his prostate Jongin screams himself hoarse, disintegrating into tears. 

“Now!” Jongin sobs, tears streaming down his face, “now, do it now, please!”

Kyungsoo groans, weak to the sound of Jongin begging so desperately. He steadies himself carefully, on one arm, and with the other he grabs the end of the sash and pulls.

The first thing he registers is the tightness of the fabric around his throat, and then, right away, feels his air supply being completely cut off. Jongin instinctively tries to gasp and can’t, body struggling to take in oxygen, and then Kyungsoo is pounding into him again, leaving Jongin with his mouth open in a silent scream as his lungs burn and his senses run wild. Everything goes into hyper drive and his vision swims as the pleasure increases tenfold, Kyungsoo fucking him so good and so deep and soon Jongin’s eyes are rolling back into his head, spit running down the side of his mouth as his body convulses uncontrollably against the cock abusing his prostate and the tie cutting off his oxygen.

His vision is turning black around the edges when Kyungsoo finally lets go, and Jongin falls forward with a gasp, sputtering and choking as he fills his lungs with air. Behind him Kyungsoo stops thrusting, and in between coughs and hacks Jongin feels hands digging into his biceps before he’s flipped over roughly, onto his back again. He peers up with watery eyes and finds Kyungsoo panting over him, eyes equal parts concerned and heavily turned on. 

Kyungsoo licks his lips, and reaches over to undo the sash and yank it away. Jongin struggles to speak then, sputtering a hoarse “No—keep—” but then Kyungsoo is spreading his legs and sliding back in and Jongin throws his head back with a high-pitched wail, cock twitching against his abdomen.

Just before Kyungsoo’s hands close over his throat, he thinks he hears the elder say, “I want to see.”

And then the hands are squeezing tight, depriving Jongin of air once again. Jongin’s eyes go wide, and he has no time to prepare as Kyungsoo picks up speed again, cock slamming in brutally, the new angle doing divine things to Jongin’s impending orgasm. His body thrashes weakly, the heat coiling tighter and tighter in his gut, and Jongin is helpless to do anything but look up with glazed, fucked-out eyes as he thrashes and comes all over his stomach, muscles and limbs spasming with the sensation overload. 

Kyungsoo curses and lets go, and Jongin sucks in a huge breath, gulping air down greedily as Kyungsoo grips his hips hard and ruts into him as fast as he can. He’s still wheezing when Kyungsoo snaps and comes with a low groan, brows knitted and jaw dropping, his come warm and filling up Jongin’s ass.

Seconds later Kyungsoo is pulling out and cupping Jongin’s face in his hands, dark eyes now swimming in fear. “Jongin? Baby? Did I hurt you? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” Jongin rasps out, deciding that mentioning there’s still currently two Kyungsoo figures dancing in front of him is not a good idea. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? You didn’t tap out even when you looked like you were going to pass out. I was scared I’d accidentally kill you.”

Jongin almost laughs but his throat hurts way too much and it comes out as this weird little hacking noise instead. “I’m okay, hyung. Still alive.”

Kyungsoo heaves an exhale, relief washing over his features. “Fuck,” he breathes, slumping down to rest his weight on Jongin’s chest and bury his face in his neck. “Jesus. That was...”

“I _loved_ that.”

“That was nuts,” Kyungsoo sighs. His hand wanders over Jongin’s neck, fingers brushing ever so slightly over the tender areas where Jongin would probably be bruised tomorrow. “Are you one of those adrenaline junkies or something? The ones that get a kick over life-threatening situations?”

“Hmm. I like roller coasters, does that count?” Jongin asks, wrapping weak arms around Kyungsoo’s body to try and snuggle him closer.

“You’re crazy,” Kyungsoo mumbles. He nuzzles Jongin’s shoulder. “But, I gotta say, your face when I did that was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Jongin blushes. “Don’t make it weird, hyung.”

“ _I’m_ making it weird?” Kyungsoo says incredulously, raising his head to look at him, and they both laugh—or, at least, Kyungsoo laughs, and Jongin does his little wheezing thing, which only sends them into further chuckles.

“C’mon. Let’s wash up, yeah?” Kyungsoo says, lifting himself up. He helps Jongin up too, keeping a careful eye out to see if Jongin is having any trouble walking or keeping balance, and even when Jongin tries to wave him off Kyungsoo supports him with one arm around his waist all the same. As he leads them to the bathroom he says, thoughtfully, “I’m not sure if I could do that every time, but...maybe once in a while.”

Despite his exhaustion, Jongin’s spirit soars. “That sounds really good.”


End file.
